House Hunting
by SweetChi
Summary: Hunting in Princeton Plainsboro is not recommended...


Written for the 2011 LJ Wishlist

Requested By: Musesinspire

Fandoms: SPN/House

Characters: Sam, Dean, House Crew

Prompt: Sam and Dean end up in Princeton Hospital… Can be for any reason (illness/case/etc.). Include the following quote: "I think I will be cutting those pills in half…" "Jesus just tried to sell me a toothbrush."

Setting: S1 or S2 for SPN, S1 Maternity episode of House.

Disclaimer: House and SPN are not mine. I write about them purely for enjoyment, not money.

**House Hunting**

"Sammy, I'm not so sure this was such a good idea," Dean said, leaning heavily against his brother as they approached the front of the hospital.

"Dude, that's _my_ line. I've been saying that this was a terrible idea from the beginning."

"Oh… yeah. I meant to say this was a great idea. It's going to work perfectly."

Sam rolled his eyes and hoisted his brother up a little higher, now practically dragging him toward the hospital entrance. Dean was right the first time - this was _not_ a good idea. It went past stupid and into the realm of suicidal and he wasn't sure how his brother and Bobby had managed to talk him into agreeing to go through with it.

Rufus had called, said he'd gone into the Princeton Plainsboro Hospital's Clinic for a tetanus shot after a particularly nasty round with a poltergeist nearby. While he was waiting, his EMF meter (still in his pocket) went nuts. He claimed he already had a werewolf hunt to do, so someone else would have to take care of it - Bobby said Rufus really just was a big pansy when it came to hospitals, he couldn't stand to be in them for more than half an hour.

Dean and Sam had happened to be there when the call came in, so guess who got the job? They'd been about six hours from New Jersey when Bobby called to tell them things had taken an ugly turn - newborn babies were dying in the hospital. This caused a new problem - as Dean so delicately put it, "Dead babies make people twitchy." But he was right, people would be hyper-vigilant in the hospital now, not exactly a good time for two strange men to be wandering the maternity ward. That's when Dean had come up with the brilliant idea of getting himself admitted as a patient, so they'd have a legitimate reason for being there. As stupid as the idea was, Sam couldn't help but feeling a fondness at his brother for being so willing to "take one for the team". He knew how much Dean hated hospitals; he also knew that he'd rather be the sick one than have Sam be in the hospital bed. But still…

Bobby had actually agreed with the idiotic plan and found some kind of weird potion that would make Dean deathly ill for twenty-four hours but leave him unharmed in the end. He'd gotten the recipe from a witch's book he'd taken - it was meant to be used as revenge, make the person that wronged you think he was dying for a day. Not exactly a nice little potion, but given the things he'd seen witches do, it fell on the harmless end of the spectrum.

Bobby said it would be perfect since it was undetectable. The docs would be busy running around doing tests for the entire time they were there, then Dean would miraculously get better. Sam had a feeling it wouldn't go so smoothly, though. Some of those tests they ran nowadays were dangerous and invasive. Dean had just shrugged and said, "Then don't let them do those tests." So, basically Sam had to hunt a baby killing monster by himself, while making sure the doctors didn't go overboard with tests on his not really sick brother, who might actually _be_ sick if this voodoo concoction of Bobby's didn't work right.

"Ow, dude, you're squeezing me," Dean whined.

"You realize this is revenge on you for feeding Rumsfeld those greasy day-old leftovers you found in the Impala, right? This is Bobby's way of getting you back for that dog crapping all over his bedroom."

"I cleaned it up!" Dean defended before going limp.

Sam shook his head and hoisted Dean up by the waistband of his jeans, then proceeded to pretty much drag him the last ten yards into the hospital. He hoped he woke up with the world's worst wedgie…

"Can I get a little help here?" Sam yelled as he dragged Dean through the front doors.

The first person to come to their aid was a woman in a tight skirt and a low cut blouse. Of course, that was like waving smelling salts under Dean's nose and his consciousness came back long enough for him to stare into her cleavage and say "Mommy, I've been a very naughty boy…" before passing out again.

The woman surprisingly just shook it off and called for a wheelchair. Seeing Sam's mortified look, she smirked.

"I'm used to dealing with comments like that, trust me."

Two orderlies popped up seconds later with a wheelchair, relieving Sam of his burden. The woman squatted down in front of Dean, feeling his pulse then pulling out a pen light to look in his eyes.

"You're a doctor?" Sam asked, surprised. If Dean knew there were doctors that looked like this, he'd probably have less of a hassle getting him into a hospital when he was actually hurt…

"Dean of Medicine, Lisa Cuddy," she answered distractedly, looking into the other eye, then back to the first.

She stood suddenly, a grave look on her face as she stared down at Dean.

"Somebody get House."

* * *

><p>Sam looked over the grizzled doctor's shoulder at his brother's huge purple pupils.<p>

"What the hell…"

"My professional medical opinion exactly. Now could you please back up, Marmaduke? You're making me feel like I'm about to be violated."

"S-sorry," Sam stuttered, quickly taking two steps back.

"Pulse is fast but respiration is good. BP is a little low," a man to the left that had introduced himself as Dr. Foreman rattled off.

"Who cares about that, he's got purple pupils," the first doctor, House, Dr. Cuddy had called him, said in what Sam could only call glee. "That's just… _awesome_."

"I know he seems crazy, but he's actually the best there is," Dr. Cameron, another treat for Dean's eyes when he woke up, whispered to Sam.

"I heard that. I resent being called the best there is. It should be 'the best there ever was or ever will be'," Dr. House said, straightening up. "And we have a new symptom, boys and girls."

He pulled the neck of Dean's gown to the side slightly to reveal a rash. Oddly enough, the little red bumps seemed to be marching in a line instead of just being scattered, disappearing down under the gown. Apparently noticing this, Dr. Foreman helped Dr. House pull Dean's gown to his waist.

"Oh my god, is that…" Dr. Cameron said, her face turning slightly pink.

Sam couldn't blame her, he felt himself turning red as well as he stared at the rash covering his brother's torso.

"They're in shapes…" Dr. Foreman said in awe.

"Of _naughty_ parts," Dr. House finished with a grin. "This is the best case _ever_."

* * *

><p>Sam made his way back to Dean's room quickly, his steaming cup of coffee the only progress he'd made outside that room since they'd arrived. So far the doctors had only been running blood tests and trying out different creams on Dean's rash, but they were getting progressively more and more antsy, making Sam worry that they'd start trying more radical approaches to finding out what was wrong with his brother soon. He also got the feeling Dr. House wasn't big on rules or permission, leaving Sam stuck watching over them instead of hunting the supposed ghost.<p>

What he had found out in his short walk to the cafeteria and back that there was indeed something going on with the babies, as Bobby had said. But from what he'd heard, it sounded more like some kind of infection, not supernatural interference. Currently the maternity ward was closed and med students were swabbing the place for the culprit. But Rufus _had_ said his EPM went off there…

Sam was still pondering this ten minutes later when his brother came around - his weird purple pupils taking in the situation with no apparent difficulty.

"How ya feeling?" Sam asked, putting his coffee down and moving over to the bed.

"Like ass," Dean said bluntly. "My mouth tastes like a dumpster and I'm all itchy."

"Well, the itchy part's probably from your new rash."

"Rash?" Dean asked, holding up his arm for a look. "What the…"

"I brought a sharpie if you want to play connect the dots," Dr. House said, limping in and waving the pen in the air with his free hand.

"Holy shit!" Dean gaped, finally making sense of what he was seeing. "Can I keep this?"

"Looks like you'll be keeping it for a while whether you want to or not. Nothing seems to be working on it," Dr. Foreman said, following Dr. House into the room.

Dean grinned like a little kid and rolled around, trying to see his back. Trust his brother to be excited about an ailment that would render most people horrified and humiliated…

"Dude, you're flashing your junk at everyone. Try and keep it PG, okay?" Sam said.

"Is he usually this… erratic?" Dr. Foreman asked.

Sam snorted. "Maybe not quite to this extreme."

"We should get a CT," Foreman said.

A CT sounded like a good idea, actually. It would keep Dean and his doctors busy, leaving Sam to his own devices. He agreed, already mentally planning his next steps in hunting whatever was in the hospital.

* * *

><p>Sam spent his time Dean was gone getting his CT trying to find out if anything supernatural was going on, but had so far come up empty handed. He'd then tried a little research, but the place wasn't built on some burial ground or the site of some ancient murder and there'd never been any kind of terrible act of violence there that he could find. But it was a hospital, so people died there all the time - it was entirely possible some pissed off spirit had hung around.<p>

By the time he felt like Dean should be back and left to return to his room, he'd gotten just as far in his hunt as he had before - which is to say nowhere. He was lost in thought as he wandered down the hallway, not realizing that the electronic squealing of monitors was coming from his brother's room until he was almost there. Bursting into the room, he took in the situation in a split second - Dean, bent forward on his bed, coughing and gasping into an oxygen mask; Dr. Foreman holding that mask to his face as he read numbers off the monitor. After a few seconds, Dean's coughing let up and the monitor's screaming cut off.

"Stats are stabilizing," Dr. Foreman announced. "You keep that on for a little while longer though."

Dean gave a nod and let the doctor fit the elastic around his head in an unusual show of docile behavior.

"What was that all about?" Sam asked.

"Wish we knew," Dr. Foreman said. "He started having short periods of -"

"Not havin' periods," Dean interrupted blearily, pulling the mask away to speak then letting it snap back in place.

"-of confusion and more erratic behavior when we got to CT. The cough just started when we got back to the room."

"How was the scan?"

"Clean."

Sam gave a mental sigh of relief, part of him had been afraid they'd actually find something wrong with Dean.

"Maybe we should test for TB," Dr. Chase suggested, then looked at Sam to clarify. "Tuberculosis."

Dean meanwhile was completely focused on Dr. Chase, his eyes wide. He pulled the mask away slowly and whispered, "Holy shit, Jesus was British?"

"I'm not British, Mr. Stanwick, I'm Australian."

"That was your first correction? Not the part about Jesus?" Dr. Foreman asked, giving his colleague a raised eyebrow.

"Probably because part of him really thinks he's the second coming," House announced, limping in from the hall. "Came to get a look at that rash again, it's the highlight of my day."

"Mine, too," Dean said, tugging on his hospital gown to show his decorated torso.

"Anything new and weird?" House asked, cocking his head to look at one of the particularly obscene pieces.

"Well, I think Jesus over there just tried to sell me a toothbrush…"

"Not a toothbrush," Chase sighed. "Tuberculosis."

"That's just a fancy toothbrush," House said to Dean in a conspiratorial whisper.

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Why do you want to test him for TB?" House asked, looking at Chase.

"With the coughing and the slight fever, I thought maybe it was a combination of things instead of just one culprit. If we could rule out any of the symptoms as-"

"That's the stupidest thing I've heard all day. You get a cookie, Chase," House interrupted.

"So, the toothbrush is a bad idea?" Dean asked.

"Yes, my little smut doodle, it is."

"Then can he go away now. His hair bothers me. And he's just so… _shiny_."

House turned and surveyed Chase seriously. "He is, isn't he. Out you go, Chase. Go work on the baby blood testing with Cameron."

"Hey, watch this," Dean said, getting House's attention before starting to roll his stomach. "It makes them move. Look at the ones by my bellybutton."

House leaned over to take a look. A second later his eyes widened and he shook his head with a grin. "Copulating rash pictures… Seriously, best case ever."

Sam rubbed a temple. This was going to be the _longest_ case ever…

* * *

><p>Sam sat in the chair next to his sleeping brother staring at House, sure he hadn't heard what the doctor had just suggested. He'd known they were getting twitchy with the lack of progress in Dean's case. But this was…<p>

"So you want to give him this medicine for a disease that you're not sure he has? One that he, in fact, tested negative for. And it'll kill him if he doesn't actually have it?"

"Yeah, that about sums it up."

"Are you really a doctor?" Sam asked, then turned to the three other doctors behind him. "Is he really a doctor?"

"Scary, isn't it," Foreman muttered.

"So, is that a yes then?" House asked. "I'll need you to sign-"

"No, it's NOT a yes! Get out!"

Dr. Cameron stepped forward tentatively. "You're brother's health is deteriorating Mr. Stanwick. We need to choose a course of treatment soon or he could-"

"So your choice is to treat him for a sickness he tested negative for that will kill him? I think I want new doctors…"

* * *

><p>Sam was once again out and about in the hospital, checking on the progress of the doctors' hunt for what was killing the babies. The more he heard, the more he was sure it was an actual medical problem, not a supernatural one. Dr. Foreman, the only doctor he was currently letting near Dean, had told him a little about what was going on while he took some blood from Dean for testing. He was apparently feeling chatty after becoming the only approved doctor on the strange case. He'd taken Dean for some kind of stress test deal, leaving Sam some time to himself.<p>

He stopped in the hall outside the quarantined room the babies where in, staring at them morosely and wishing something would reveal itself as the culprit - whether it be medical or otherwise. Just… _something._

"Can I help you, Mr. Stanwick?"

Sam blinked and spun to see the woman from earlier, Dr, Cuddy, looking at him suspiciously.

"Oh, uh, no… Sorry, I just needed a break and went for a walk."

"A walk? While your brother's deathly ill?" She asked, eyes narrowed.

"It's that doctor," he spat, not having to feign the venom in his words. "He's making me crazy. Every time I turn around he's trying to kill my brother. Right now Dr. Foreman's giving him some test and I can't be there, but I keep picturing that crazy grizzled doctor popping up with some supposed cure…"

"House," she breathed, suspicion apparently erased by his answer.

"Yeah, that man is a nutcase."

"I know it seems that way," Dr. Cuddy said. "But he really is brilliant. It's because he's able to think outside of the box that he's able to save so many people with more… _unusual_ symptoms, like your brother."

"That may be the case, but when he's trying to 'cure' your brother with something that, odds are, will kill him instead, those words ring a little hollow."

Dr. Cuddy shook her head, apparently not at all surprised at that revelation. "I suppose so."

They both stared in at the babies and Sam decided to see if he could pry a little info out of her while she was there. As the Dean of Medicine, she probably had more facts on what was going on than anyone else.

"I heard that they're sick," Sam said, gesturing at the little bundles lined up in the room in front of them.

"Yes," Dr. Cuddy sighed. "You'll be happy to know that Dr. House is busy trying to find out what's going on with them right now, so you're brother's safe for the moment."

"Not really… Just makes me worry about them, too," Sam said honestly.

Dr. Cuddy gave a tired laugh. "I think they're finally getting somewhere, though. We all thought it was an infection, but it's actually looking like it's a virus instead. We've narrowed it down, but times running out…"

They both fell quiet as they stared into the room. Having it pretty much verified that it was medical and not mystical didn't really make Sam feel any better. They were so _small_…

"Well, why don't I walk you back to your brother's room?" Dr. Cuddy asked.

Sam agreed since he was sure she wouldn't leave him there alone and they took the elevator back to Dean's floor together.

"I feel like I should tell you… House is an extraordinary doctor," she said as they stepped off the elevator and headed toward Dean's room. "His methods leave a lot to be desired and his attitude… well, you've seen him, you know. But he really is your brother's best chance. I'd strongly recommend you rethink your decision to kick him off the case."

"I'll think about it. But-"

At that point, they stepped into Dean's room to find House, with a syringe poised about three inches from the IV line. They all stood and stared at each other for a second, the only movement the lines on the monitors and a drop of clear fluid from the end of the needle.

"House…" Dr. Cuddy practically growled.

He lowered the syringe with an exaggerated guilty look.

"Uh-oh, Mommy's back…"

* * *

><p>Sam was still fuming when he came back from picking up the antibiotics Dr. Cuddy had prescribed for Dean. After he'd finally processed what he was seeing, Sam had exploded, his studies in law coming back as he yelled about suing and malpractice and other things he couldn't even remember now. He'd had enough of this crazy hospital and the crazy doctors and the non-existent ghost. He was taking his brother and getting the hell out of there. Backing up his demands was the fact that Dean's stats were steadily improving and the rash was disappearing, leaving Dr. Cuddy with no choice but to write Sam a prescription for some antibiotics for Dean while apologizing profusely and dragging Dr. House from the room (ignoring his whining that he was crippled and she was hurting him).<p>

Dean was awake and looking around with normal colored pupils when Sam returned.

"We're getting out of here," he said tossing Dean's clothes on the bed.

"What about the case?"

"There's nothing supernatural going on here. It's just a virus," he said, running a hand through his hair in frustration as he paced the room. "I think your doctor might be a demon though - he keeps trying to kill you…"

"He what?" Dean asked, narrowing his eyes and pulling a huge knife out from under his pillow. Or course, Dr. Foreman chose that moment to come in.

"Mr. Stanwick, what are you doing with that knife?" He asked stopping dead in his tracks.

"I… I think I'll be cutting these pills in half," he said, grabbing the bottle of pills Sam had put on the table and giving it a shake. "They just look a little big so…"

"I think you need to put the knife away, Mr. Stanwick," Dr. Foreman said slowly, shooting a concerned look at Sam.

Sam just waved it off though. "This isn't a symptom. He's better and we're leaving."

"Just because he's stable now doesn't mean-"

"We're. Leaving," Sam said, glaring until Dr. Foreman backed out of the room.

"Jeez, Sammy… What's with you? _I'm_ the one that was poisoned, so why are _you_ so bent out of shape?'

Luckily, Sam's phone rang at that moment, keeping him from attacking Dean and causing them to have to stay at that hell hole of a hospital any longer.

"Bobby," he answered after a glance at the ID. "We're getting out of here. I don't think there's anything supernatural going on."

"Really? Did you try the EMF?" Bobby asked, his voice strangely choked.

"No," Sam said, distractedly gathering the insurance paperwork. "I figured the MRI machine would-"

He stopped, papers slipping from his fingers and scattering across the floor.

"I'm an absolute _moron_," he said, slapping a palm to his forehead while Bobby burst out laughing on the other end.

"You knew?" Bobby gasped. "You knew and you stayed there anyway?"

"It just crossed my mind that it wouldn't work because of the interference from the MRI, but I was so focused on the babies being sick- Wait, _you _knew this was a wild goose chase and you didn't say anything? What the hell, Bobby?"

"Serves you idjits right for letting Rumsfeld shit all over my house."

"That was Dean!"

"You watched him feed him those leftovers!"

Sam snapped the phone shut, squeezing it so hard the plastic creaked dangerously.

"Man, really wish I could've kept that rash a little longer," Dean said as he pulled on his shirt, apparently having ignored Sam's conversation, instead opting to search his body for any hint of a dirty picture. "So, what's up with the case? What'd Bobby say? I hope he tore you a new one for sitting on your ass while I went to all this trouble of playing the sick card to get us in this joint."

Sam's eye twitched as he advanced on his brother. Maybe Dr. House would get to have Dean as a patient again after all…


End file.
